


Do as I say, not as I do

by mandalora



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Pre-Dishonored (Video Game), Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandalora/pseuds/mandalora
Summary: Nobody taught Daud how to parent.
Relationships: Daud & Billie Lurk | Meagan Foster
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Do as I say, not as I do

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergence where everything is the same but Billie meets Daud when she’s 12-13.

Daud doesn’t need to count to know that the pack he keeps in his desk is a cigarette short. 

Somehow, he doesn’t feel even a whit of surprise.

He slides the drawer shut with a click of his tongue. He’d gladly take to locking it, only it wouldn’t change a thing.

That damn kid.

Expecting little, Daud scans the surroundings through the Void. It must be sheer luck that he catches the thief so quickly this time—immediately he spots a small silhouette of a girl sitting on the roof, not too far off.

She’s sloppy today. Poor timing, didn’t even bother to run off at that.

Well, better for him.

He takes the stairs up to the second floor, blinks through the hole in the roof. One more transversal and he’s standing over her, just a pace away.

Daud holds out his hand.

Billie makes a titanic effort to pretend not to notice him, and—the balls on this kid—takes another drag.

Daud waits. One moment. Two. At last, Billie breaks under the stare, puffs out the smoke and flits her eyes up to him. Then quickly brings them back forward. Then, a few seconds later, glances over to his hand, and once again to his face. 

She purses her lips, wrinkles her nose.

“Fucking why?!”

Too much nerve, too much swearing, too much ego. He’s too soft with her. Too loose.

Daud flicks his fingers in a demanding beckon. Billie tries to hold her own but soon gives up and hands over the cigarette, accompanied by a loud click of her tongue and a downright insulting roll of her eyes.

Daud throws the cigarette down on the roof and grinds it out with his boot. “Don't pop your eyeballs out."

Billie pulls her knees to her chest and looks away.

“Aren’t you supposed to be training?”

“I’m off today,” she gruffs as if he’s supposed to be keeping track of her schedules. Daud cocks an eyebrow. Might be the truth, but he’ll have to check with her group lead.

“That doesn’t give you leave to go through my things.”

“It’s just a cig—”

“How many times have we been over this?” Billie draws out a breathy groan. “Hm?”

When she doesn’t reply—not that he expected a response anyway—Daud sighs and takes a seat by her side. Billie resolutely keeps her gaze turned away.

Now she’ll sulk for a day or so, and will make damn sure he knows it. A nuisance, certainly, but not his problem.

“I just don’t understand,” Daud says, “why you’re so intent on trying to fuck up your lungs.”

Silence. 

“Black magic won’t compensate for bad health.”

He ought to be much harsher with this. He ought to treat this on par with something like skipping training, put her on cleaning duty for another week.

He ought to do a lot of things. He sighs again, looks out on the roofs across the street, faintly lit by washed-out sunlight. 

It’s early. Too early to be dealing with this.

“You don’t even like it,” he says.

“Yeah, I do.”

A blatant lie. Billie must know that he can tell.

Daud huffs. “Sure.”

“I do!”

“I just can’t say I believe you.”

Hair falls over her face as Billie looks down on the roof tiling. She’s silent for a while, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter. Softer.

“You smoke.”

Of course she had to use that against him at some point.

“I’m not fifteen, for one. And don’t look at me, I’m not an example.”

He realizes, then, how foolish that sounds.

He’s sure that Billie shares the sentiment. Annoyed and maybe a little affronted, she scoffs. “Yeah? Then why don’t you quit if it’s so bad?”

Not intending to give her the satisfaction, Daud holds himself back from clicking his tongue. “Don’t turn this around on me.”

She groans. “Come on—”

“It’s complicated. I have my reasons. And that’s that.”

For all her love of arguing just for the sake of it, Billie seems to have little to say. She bobs her head—a slight movement, obvious in trying to make it look accidental—so that her hair falls forward and stays covering most of the side of her face.

They sit like this for a few minutes, and while Billie fidgets with the edge of a roof tile with the heel of her boot, Daud mourns the loss of his intended smoke break. 

“And anyway,” he breaks the silence later. “If you’re gonna do it, get your own cigarettes.”

If she wants to smoke—if she _truly wants_ to smoke—he can’t do much to stop her.

But, he thinks, he still has some control in this. 

“But if I catch you stealing from me again I’m severing your bond. Got that?”

Billie tenses up, and hitches one shoulder in a jerky shrug.

Daud slightly raises his voice. “Can’t hear you.”

“Yes, yes, I fucking got it.”

For now, that’s as good as he’ll get out of her. It’s something.

Daud sighs, stands up, and flicks the cigarette butt off the roof with his foot.

“Quit wasting time,” he says then. “Go do something useful.”

Billie gives nothing in reply, and still refuses to look at him. That’s fine. She can sulk as long as she likes.

Daud throws one last glance at her and turns to blink back to his office.


End file.
